


Escapade

by yeaka



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dry Humping, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 12:12:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12864270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Dirk sneaks in, and suddenly, it’s on.





	Escapade

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Set somewhere in s1 (tagged canon divergence because I don’t know where) because that’s all I’ve seen as of now.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Every time he tries to close his eyes, he sees Dirk’s smiling face behind them, and they bolt open again to the relative black of the bedroom. It’s the only part of the apartment that isn’t completely trashed, and Todd likes to think that’s because it’s the one room Dirk hasn’t been in. At least, not physically. Dirk’s haunting Todd mentally. Because just before they parted for the night, Dirk loudly proclaimed again that he’d be sleeping on the sofa and started stripping down.

Todd really should’ve run. He could’ve. All he had to do was turn away. But instead, he stood there, at first frozen just by shock, while Dirk shed his garish yellow jacket and pulled his shirt right over his head. By the time he was pushing down his skin-tight pants, Todd came to his senses. He saw Dirk in just boxers. He’ll never know if Dirk was going to strip more than that. And he shouldn’t care, or maybe he’d just be traumatized.

He’s mildly traumatized. Mostly, he’s having trouble sleeping, because his own boxers feel strangely tight and it’s warmer in his bedroom than it should be. He rolls over onto his other side, staring through the darkness and trying to think of something, anything, that isn’t the long, lean line of Dirk Gently’s lithe back, all creamy skin and subtle curves which just a hint of buried muscle and plush, trim thighs—

Todd wrinkles his nose at himself and mutters, “Stop it.” He means it at himself, but he _wants_ to scold Dirk. He’s not even interested in men. Usually. Mostly. Especially not short, skinny little British freaks with perfectly styled chocolate hair and big bright eyes and a goofy but far too alluring smile...

Todd stops himself mid-thought and mid-thrust, realizing too late that his hips have angled down towards the mattress and bucked into it. He’s definitely hard. Which is ridiculous, because he didn’t even see Dirk’s ass. Not that he wants to. Not that he thinks Dirk’s anywhere near attractive or ridiculously cute or somewhere right between pretty and suave. Dirk’s an _idiot_ who’s probably insane, and the fact that he looks at Todd like Todd’s his whole world shouldn’t change that in the least.

The door creaks open, and Todd instantly shuts his eyes, feigning sleep on instinct. It has to be Dirk. There’s no one else in his apartment. And this is _not_ the time for another nonsensical conversation. He deliberately stills his body, glad he’s on his side instead of his back so Dirk won’t see a tent in the mattress. 

Footsteps patter around to the other side of the bed, and the mattress weighs down, the duvet and sheet lifting off Todd’s body. That’s not something he can lie idle through, and chances are, Dirk will somehow know he’s awake anyway.

He glances over his shoulder, just in time to see Dirk climbing on and sidling up right behind him. Dirk catches Todd’s eyes in whatever little light filters in through the curtains. He grins that same strangely sweet, oddly naïve smile that he always does, and then he’s so close that his folded arms are touching Todd’s back. Todd shivers, glad he slept in a shirt. 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Todd asks, “Dirk?”

“Todd.” Like it’s perfectly normal. Of course he’d do that.

“What’re you doing?”

“Sleeping with you.”

Todd winces and stresses, “ _Why_?”

He can feel Dirk shrug as much as see it. Dirk hums, “Hunch?” in a sort of sing-song voice that belies the truth—he probably just wanted to. He’s torture.

And facing him would probably be worse, but Todd finds himself rolling over anyway, like the universe has picked him up and turned him the right way around. He keeps his knees in front of him to hold Dirk’s body back from his. Looking right into Dirk’s face is _so_ much worse. But Dirk beams like _this_ is what it’s all been leading to.

He whispers, “You smell nice.” Because he can’t do anything that isn’t weird.

Todd just looks at him. 

Dirk shifts, legs slipping right past Todd’s defense, and the next thing Todd knows, he’s got one of Dirk’s thighs thrust right between his, Dirk snuggled so close that their noses brush. Todd can feel himself flush and wills himself to move away, but his body won’t listen. For a fraction of a second, Dirk doesn’t seem to notice. Then he squirms in place, and suddenly his eyes widen around the edges, glancing down between them like it’s all a big surprise. The blanket covering their bodies doesn’t hide anything at all. He looks back up to Todd and asks, “Are you _hard_?”

Todd opens his mouth to say ‘no,’ but instead darts forward. Before he can stop himself, his body’s gone on autopilot, and he’s pressed a kiss against Dirk’s lips, hips grinding down into Dirk’s thigh, and Dirk squeals when Todd pulls back. Todd’s already breathing heavy; Dirk just looks flabbergasted. As though there’s any possible reason for slipping into someone’s bed other than this. The next kiss is almost out of spite.

It’s bruising, quick, and beyond Todd’s control; he grabs Dirk’s face and pulls it tight against himself, while Dirk just sort of trembles uselessly against him. Dirk’s arms are still between them, Dirk’s lips unmoving, even though he presses in. It takes a third kiss for Dirk’s hands to actually find Todd’s body, and then they map out his chest, tentative and searching, before sliding comfortably around him to hold him in. Dirk’s hips press against Todd’s, and they’re just the right height for it—perfectly aligned—they fit and Todd can _feel it_ , feel that Dirk’s hard too. Already. He doesn’t know what Dirk was thinking of. Doesn’t care. One hand stays in Dirk’s silken hair while the other hand strays down Dirk’s mostly-naked body, touching _everything_.

After that, there are no numbered kisses, because they flow together in a steady, messy stream of nips and licks and both of them opening their mouths at the wrong time, clashing teeth and bumping noses, but they keep going anyway. Todd’s hand finds Dirk’s ass, and he squeezes it through Dirk’s boxers, drinking in the high-pitched moan that Dirk spills into his mouth. He bucks himself against Dirk and sees stars when their clothed lengths press into one another. He keeps their legs tangled and grinds them together, while Dirk pants through Todd’s fervent kisses, “ _Todd_...”

Everything’s going to hell. Todd knows it, and for once, doesn’t care. He couldn’t stop now if he wanted to. He rolls them over suddenly, shoving right onto Dirk and grinding Dirk down into the mattress. He crushes Dirk’s small frame beneath him and burns up from the heat of it. Dirk clings to him for dear life. Todd feels intoxicated, but so _right_ —like the universe wants it—them together like this, connected, locked as closely together as they can be. He thrusts so hard into Dirk that the bed starts to rattle against the wall. Dirk whines and moans and sounds like an even bigger mess than Todd is, even though Todd wants to blame him for orchestrating the whole damn thing. It’s all Dirk’s fault. But Todd _wants him_ anyway. 

He’s only just slipped his hand inside Dirk’s boxers when it all becomes too much, even though they’ve barely started—Todd tightens and bursts, spilling himself inside his own boxers and humping Dirk harder for it. He clutches Dirk’s ass as he comes, and Dirk kisses him right through his languid cry. He can feel the exact second when Dirk follows—tensing beneath him before dampening, and then they’re both a writhing, sweating mess, shallowly rutting into one another as their kisses die out in favour of air.

Heavy and boneless in the aftermath, Todd rolls off. He slumps half on the mattress, half on Dirk, still breathing hard but so, so satisfied. He hasn’t had anyone in his bed for what feels like forever, even if they didn’t do more than come in their underwear like teenagers. Still worth it. They can work up to other things. Then he realizes he’s actually thinking about _other things_ with this crazy man who crashed into his life. 

Dirk leans over to snuggle against his face, so _cute_ that Todd can’t stand it. Or at least, it is until Dirk chirps, “So, we’re boyfriends now?” Cheery and bright: like that’s it; it’s done.

Todd rolls onto his other side, groaning, and Dirk swiftly spoons him, apparently just as pleased that Todd doesn’t say ‘no.’


End file.
